3rd Day: Whisper English To Me

Cooking in a Parisian 3-star restaurant and not speaking the language or understanding the cultural subtlties causes some interesting situations – some funny, some not so funny. As I just recently found out English is outlawed in the kitchen…well, sort of…

I came into work for the Saturday night shift ready to get the amuse bouche station into gear and was talking with another stagier (apprentice). He was explaining the variations of the soup for me in English. There was no one in the kitchen yet – just us – and no real need to keep our voices down or hide our conversation in English.

Out of nowhere, the coffee maker guy started to yell at us. “Pas Anglais! Anglais – NON!” He went on to tell Justin that he was not allowed to talk to me in English and that we were both going to get in a lot of trouble. Justin fired back that he was only trying to help me with the different plates for the soup as it was my third day on the job.

I kept thinking, “Great, the coffee maker guy is telling me that I can’t talk in my mother tongue and he’s obviously not from France orginally, what a jerk!” But then the thought donned on me that I am an immigrant and an American at that. I started to wonder what it must of been like in Early America with immigrants coming from all over the world speaking different languages.

How hard it must have been (and must be today) to find work and friends. To survive. And here was this guy, totally out of line, yet in some ways totally right – I’ve got to learn French. Period.

When the chef in charge of the Amuse Bouche station came in, the coffee maker guy told on us just as promised. But our boss just shrugged it off and told me not to worry about it. Later I heard from another young chef that English is forbidden and if some of the older chefs hear me speaking English they will get angry.

I had to think about this for awhile. What was the big deal? Was this because they hate Americans or because if you have a kitchen of people shouting multiple languages you’re going to have some pretty messed up dinners. I hoped the later was true.

So I started the shift upset that I had been yelled at for speaking English. We don’t talk to each other like that in American restaurants. At least not in San Francisco where most kitchens have an equal staff of men and women of all different nationalities.

Our chef de cuisine for the evening was a man who I was warned about. I was told that he would not tolerate English and was very strict. Funny enough, the Chef de Cuisine had just come back from America and was eager to speak English. When I attempted to hold a conversation with him in French he replied “You can speak English with me, I want to speak English”. Ha!

The Chef was an excellent leader the whole evening, he knew just went to raise his voice to get the kitchen moving faster and when to laugh and give praise. He was even tempered but demanded excellence on every plate that passed by on the way to the customers. We were slammed that evening, but we made through it good spirit. If I was ever to sail through a typhoon, I would want to be on his boat.

As the night winded down, with only two orders yet to fire, my boss at the Amuse Bouche station told me I could go home. I started to take off my apron and wish all the chef’s a a “Bon soirée’ when the Chef de Cuisine stopped me and said in French that it is customary to give two kisses when you depart for the weekend. The kitchen of eighteen young men stopped and stared at me to see just exactly how I would respond or if I even understood.

I looked at the Chef de Cuisine quizzically, “You mean the two kisses on the cheek?”. “Yes” he responded and laughed not thinking that I’d actually go through with the dare. So I walked forward and gave him two kisses and the whole kitchen burst out in laughter. Although the greeting with kisses is traditional, it’s not something you do to the big boss.

He then pointed to the other main chef and said, “And him too!”. The kitchen staff paused again to see my reaction, “Him too?” I went over and gave him a double peck. And one last time he pointed to another chef and said, “And him too!” and I replied “Okay, him too, but that is it!!!” and the whole kitchen burst into laughter again.

I think we all left that evening on a high note. For a brief moment we had all managed to transcend the language, cultural, and male/female barrier and just have fun. It’s amazing how far a little humor and a lot of hard work will go.

8 Comments on "3rd Day: Whisper English To Me"

It makes sense to me that the kitchen would be French speaking only – why ever not – its FRANCE! Just think how President Bush has said that the US anthem is not allowed to be sung in Spanish. I am all for immigration, but I am also for countries striving to hold on to their national identities too. For me the charm of Paris is that they all speak French, even though, like you, I struggle to understand and get quite frustrated whilst I am there.
But you’ll be fine – you are obviously manage to hold your own in a kitchen full of cheeky boys!

Wow, congrats on holding your own in such tough and intimidating circumstances! I probably would have been holding back tears if someone had talked to me like that! It’s great you were able to get through and even connect with the staff at the end!

You are just the kind of person to succeed in this rather intimidating environment! I really admire your coolness and sense of humor (and love of good food). A lot of people would have been angry or shy, but you did just the right thing: laugh, flirt just enough without going too far, and above all not take them all too seriously.
Probably very few French women could have carried it off as well as you did, and they are probably nicer to you because they know American women do everything!
As for the English, I don’t think it’s because you’re American or because they’re worried about chaos. A lot of people who speak only one language are sure that others speaking a language they don’t understand MUST be talking about them. Therefore they think it’s rude. (The English are always complaining that the Welsh speak Welsh in pubs even though there are English people there; Californians complain about Mexican-Americans– as though it’s somehow rude for people to speak their own native language.)
Thanks for giving us a glimpse of this interesting life of yours!

i see both sides of this. i really understand the coffee maker though because he probably got yelled at so many times for using the common language of english and he didn’t want to let you get away with it.
although, i don’t know if you realise why you are getting cut a wee bit more slack on the language issue than most others… you… amy, are an attractive woman, and that goes a long way in france. and don’t let them get you down. time. it takes time.

Jeorg – I think you’re right about being cut a wee bit more slack for now, which in some ways is a saving grace. Only one time did one of the main chefs really yell at me (for something not important at all) and he normally comes down hard on everyone else. I wonder how long it will last though…
Sedulia – Thanks for dropping by! I love your blog. I’m sure you’ve noticed that women must keep a balance between holding their own, not giving in too much, and having a sense of humor about all the sexual stuff. Sure is different than home…
Tana – Just for you I think I will try that and see what happens Although the cheese server commented yesterday that he likes it when i have to reach up high for things so he can look at my tushy. I’m working with the hormonally challenged…
Anita – Thanks for the encouragement! Every drop counts…
Sam – Yes, I agree that countries should retain their own langauge and their own identity. I guess my frustration is based on why I can’t talk in a different langauge to some one else if it’s not during service or to one of the main chefs? Seems extreme. But I guess that’s the breaks!

I can’t think why coffee guy got his grinder in a knot. Especially to a point where he tattle tales. How petit.
Soon enough, you’ll get the swing of GS’s kitchen language. Hell, you’ve already picked up a lot if you get the kitchen laughing (with you, or course)…
It’s been my experience that the French are less prone to put up a stink if intimate innuendos come up in conversation. Sometimes I’m amazed at some of the stuff that gets joked about at work, but hey, it makes for a livelier environment.

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